


Succubus

by Sealie



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-08
Updated: 1999-05-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: Yes, I know that these due South fics are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar iswrong.If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things.I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 -- after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.





	Succubus

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that these due South fics are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar is _wrong_. 
> 
> If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things. 
> 
> I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.
> 
> I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 -- after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.
> 
> I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.

Succubus

Standard disclaimer. This story was inspired by a poem  


**Okay warnings:  
1\. Swearing  
2\. Religious discussion/sermon of offensive content (almost verbatim account of one I heard once - I couldn't believe it!)  
3\. Adult Innuendo and Implications  
**

**I'm going to err on the side of caution and say R.  
**

# Succubus

by Sealie Scott.  


Running, blood pumping, lungs expanding. The mountie loved to run. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. Exhilarating - he didn't merely like running he adored running; jogging was a poor second. Through running he could achieve peace, concentrating solely on moving forwards avoiding those around him until they became still and distant. West Racine loomed ahead. Fraser marvelled at the changes he had unwittingly instigated on the apartment complex. The interior, whilst not as spick and span as his grandmother's house, had improved dramatically in the last two years. And now the exterior was swept and painted.  
Fraser slowed from his smooth lope to cooling jog. Perspiration trickled down his back making his t-shirt cling to his body. It felt great to be alive. Dief came barrelling around the corner and joined the mountie.  
"Hello, Dief."  
Dief yelped joyfully and raced ahead. It was dinner time.  
Fraser slowed again and walked up to the foyer of his home. Joe, who usually lived in the lift, sat on the front step nursing a bottle of coke and the cheese baguette Fraser had given him before leaving on his run.  
"Enjoy your run, Mr Fraser?"  
"Indeed." Fraser stopped and with a lithesome stretch relaxed and pulled all the muscles in his back.  
"I think Diefenbaker is hungry."  
Poised in the entrance Dief barked agreeing with the homeless man.  
"I think you're right." The mountie leaped up the steps into his home. And almost tripped over Dief who had come to a halt just inside the hall. The wolf's hackles were up and he was snarling deep in his throat.  
"What's the matter, Dief?"  
The corridor was dark in contrast to the bright sunlight outside. Fraser flicked the light switch and nothing happened. Despite his earlier optimism there were still problems at West Racine.  
Dief growled again, every muscle in the wolf's body was locked as he faced the far end of the dark corridor.  
"Hello?" Fraser called into the darkness. Slowly he moved forwards, step by step. The corridor felt empty. Dief hugged his side. A shadow in the far corner was particularly opaque.  
"Hello?"  
Another step, Fraser reached into the shadow and touched a wall. The wall was cold and damp overlaid with grimy flaking paint which the decorator had missed. There was nothing there; the corridor was empty. The hairs on the back of his neck vibrated to Dief's low reverberating growl.  
"Shush, Dief, I need to look."  
Dief subsided and leaned into Fraser's legs, that in itself was unusual and worrying. Fraser noted the wolf's uncharacteristic behaviour and forced himself to study the area. There were many ways to look - sometimes sight simply got in the way. Closing his eyes Fraser concentrated. Sounds resolved themselves into their component forms: Mrs Gracie clattering around with her walker; Mr Campbell pacing incessantly on creaking floorboards... He could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Fraser inhaled deeply - the scent of eucalyptus was different as was the distinct smell of new leather and rubber  
Dief stalked forwards and snuffled in that darkest shadow.  
"What is it, Dief? What spooked you?"  
Dief didn't answer.  
_A rat_ , Fraser decided.  
Still growling under his breath the wolf started up the stairs. Fraser slowly followed. The wolf was still twitchy but calmed once he made a made a complete circuit of the apartment. Then instead of lying on his woven carpet he curled up against the front door barring the entrance.  
Fraser placed his hands on his hips and assessed the wolf.  
"I know you think something is 'up' but I don't know what you're trying to tell me."  
Dief's tail thumped the floor.  
"You want me to stay in the apartment?"  
Dief wrapped his tail over his muzzle and while he appeared to relax he did not close his eyes.  


*  


His own scream woke him from a restless sleep. Suddenly he was sitting bolt upright lathered in a terrified sweat. Hyperventilating, he searched the room looking for something, anything - preferably nothing. A sudden movement sent him skittering up the bed against the wall until a pale blur resolved itself into Diefenbaker.  
"Oh, it's you." Fraser relaxed onto his pillow.  
His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears  
Diefenbaker whined understandingly.  
"I had a dream."  
Dief's tail tentatively wagged.  
He was still, Fraser noted, at his self imposed post. _Protecting me from what? A dream?_  
Only fragments of thoughts teased him, more like aftertastes and smells rather than coherent images. Usually, and the most disturbing facet of his dreams was that they were not recognisably flat and stale but that they entangled him fully in sensations and thoughts. Until, at times, he didn't know if he was awake or sleeping. Dreaming your days in your nights left a vaguely dissatisfying taste in your mouth. The terror from the possible dream stayed with him. _A nightmare?_ Fraser wondered. Horror story monsters were easy to contend with; they could be dismissed. When werewolves walked he would know that he ranged within a dream and when he knew he dreamt he always woke. But some monsters walked in human form making dreams harder to escape from.  


Dief wagged his tail again offering comfort.  
Fraser untangled himself from his blanket and then with slow deliberate movements shifted his bedding onto the floor and curled up beside Diefenbaker.  


*  


Paperwork had trapped the detective in the office bullpen. And for once he wasn't complaining; the weather had turned dull and cold after a gloriously sunny weekend. Now it just seemed to rain and when it rained the heavens opened. The office with its perpetual supply of coffee and a nice heater under his desk suited the detective down to the ground. And surprisingly there was a certain satisfaction in pushing folder after folder into the out-tray. He didn't kid himself, however, another two days of this routine would drive him up the proverbial wall.  
The shrill of the phone broke his concentration.  
"Vecchio."  
"What have you done to Constable Fraser - _this time_?" a familiar voice snarled from the phone.  
"Hello, Inspector Thatcher, nice to speak to you too." Ray answered pleasantly.  
"Don't get smart with me."  
Ray grimaced down the phone as the Inspector's words sank in. "Has Benny called in sick?" he demanded.  
The was tense, annoyed breathing on the other end of the line. Ray's imagination began to run riot: all sorts of horrible things could have happened to his innocent, naive friend.  
"No," she admitted slowly.  
Ray breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Then it occurred to him that Fraser's chronically nasty superior was ringing him at work - something had to be wrong.  
"He just looks like something that the cat, wolf - I suppose, dragged in." Thatcher continued. "Needless to say - he says: nothing is wrong. I just wanted out find out if you've been keeping him up chasing _American_ crooks all night."  
Ray took a slurp from his coffee before answering that accusation. "I haven't seen Fraser for a couple of days... Look is he really out of sorts?"  
Silence again, then: "Would I be ringing you if he wasn't?"  
"Okay, okay, okay." Ray said. "I said to Fraser that we'd get together for lunch this week - I'll just turn up today and drag him out for something to eat. Then I can find out of you're overreacting."  
With that gibe he put the phone down on the Inspector's spluttering. He sighed at the phone in the cradle - he was going to pay for that crack, he realised.  


*  


The peas were marching across the plate to the mashed potato fort. Carrots stood lonely at attention until the fork smashed their ranks. Ray felt like he was at dinner with his nephew, Paulie, without the benefit of noise. It had taken a good ten minutes to cajole Fraser into coming out to lunch and for the next fifteen minutes Fraser had played silently with his food. Ray kept up his incessant chatter as he regaled Fraser with the events in the precinct over the last two days. Fraser nodded absently but Ray could tell that he wasn't listening. Rambling on about nothing in particular allowed Ray to study his friend. There were dark shadows under his eyes and Fraser had that pinched look to his face that usually meant he wasn't sleeping.  
"Who's keeping you awake, Benny?" Ray asked directly.  
"Oh, sorry, Ray." Fraser's head jerked up and three peas made an escape off the plate and onto the table.  
"Who's keeping you awake?" Ray repeated.  
"Nobody." Fraser said honestly.  
Ray's eyes narrowed as he examined his friend. Fraser wouldn't lie but the evidence was there on his tired face.  
"What's keeping you awake?" Ray revised his question.  
"Ah." Fraser mashed his fort into a volcano. "I've had a few disturbed nights."  
"Your weird meaningful dreams?" Ray leaned closer making the booth more private. The rest of the restaurant receded into the background \- an unimportant drone.  
"No. I can't remember," he admitted.  
The mountie sounded distant and resigned but Ray knew that he was disturbed. Step back, be an observer, was how Benny coped with life. Benny was the epitome of the 'Stranger in a Strange Land'. Initially, Ray had thought it was simple homesickness and unfamiliarity with a bustling American city. As he came to know the Canadian he realised that there was a profoundly detached core to Benny's personality. Formed, no doubt, by a lonely, emotionless upbringing. As a young child he must have turned inwards to imaginative friends, stories and adventures. The result was his friend was introspective, overly analytical and too sensitive for his own good. Ray took it as his personal mission in life to re-educate his friend to the joys of being involved in life rather than being an outsider.  
"Well, you must remember something."  
Fraser jabbed idly at a carrot before he summoned up an answer. "I can't really describe it..."  
"And..." Ray prompted.  
Fraser raised his head; his eyes were beseeching.  
"Yes..." Ray tried again.  
Fraser actually sighed, a deep 'leave me alone' sigh. "I feel like I'm being taken away and then I wake up."  
"Just like that?" Ray leaned back, patently disbelieving the cavalier words.  


"Yes, Ray." Fraser returned to his carrot mashing.  
"Where's Dief?" Ray asked, changing the subject. Normally the wolf would sit by the detective's side - knowing that he would be a soft touch for an edge of toast or part of a crueller.  
"He's under the table."  
Ray tucked his head under the table. Yellow eyes stared balefully up at him. The wolf was tucked up against the mountie's legs - watching. There was an almost inaudible growl emanating from the white wolf.  
"Is he having nightmares?" Ray demanded.  
"No." Fraser chewed the inside of his cheek.  
_This is stupid,_ Ray thought, _it's like trying to get blood from a stone._  
"So what's bothering him?" Ray's voice was pitched just a little too high.  
"I wish I knew." Fraser snapped out. He pushed the plate away from him and with jerky movements aligned his knife and folk perfectly on the plate. "Thanks for lunch, Ray. I've got to get back to work, Inspector Thatcher has me on guard duty again."  
Then he was gone.  
Ray slowly closed his mouth at the mountie's abrupt exit. Thatcher was right there was indeed something wrong.  


*  


Fumbling in the darkness, Fraser reached for his wrist watch. He had awoken again. Yet it was not a dream that pulled him screaming from deep sleep but a feeling of utter terror and desolation. Fraser breathed deeply and calmly, there was to reason to be afraid; the room felt empty and there were no unfamiliar sounds echoing through West Racine. He could dismiss the night terrors if he didn't think about them. In the cool neon light shining through his windows he could barely make out the face of the watch. He had only been sleeping for a few hours. Tiredly, Fraser rubbed his eyes as he rolled over onto his side to check on Dief. Once again the wolf had stationed himself at the door. It wasn't necessary \- it was barred. Dief coughed in the back of his throat.  
"What is it?"  
The wolf inhaled and coughed again. The scent of eucalyptus was slowly filling the room. A cloying, medicinal smell.  
"Somebody must have a cold." Fraser explained.  
_Maybe I'm getting the 'flu again - do you have night terrors when you have a cold?_ he wondered.  
"Come on, Dief." Fraser patted his bed. Dief needed no second invitation - the room had turned cold and clammy.  
Fraser huddled down under his gray blanket pulling it up around his neck as Dief settled alongside him. With wide open eyes they watched the malevolent shadows playing on the far wall. When the neon light outside suddenly went dark the wolf started, drawing his claws down Fraser's back as he scrabbled off the bed and screamed under the kitchen table. The wolf growled pitifully and apologetically. Fraser waited until his heart stopped trying to climb out of his mouth then he sat up wincing at the pull of flesh along his back. The wolf's nails had caught the bullet scar, he could feel the trickle of blood down his back. Cradling his head in his hands, he tried futilely to relax.  
"It's okay, Dief. The light just went out."  
Dief yelped but he didn't leave his refuge under the table.  
Fraser didn't leave the bed.  


*  


_It's too late,_ Ray realised, _Benny'll be asleep._  
The mountie's windows were dark and closed against the night. He had meant to pick the mountie up after his shift but in the short hour he had taken for lunch the FBI had descended on the precinct and now he and Huey were involved, up to their eyeballs, in a surveillance sting of a possible kidnapper.  
The light outside the deli flared and blew making the dank, dark street even more disreputable. Slowly, Ray started his car and pulled away. He would try and see Benny tomorrow.  


*  


"Damn, damn, damn." Ray swore at the traffic but mainly at himself. The stakeout had been extended when their relief had deigned not show up at six o'clock. Huey had been fuming by the time the two refreshed and relaxed feds had sloped in at nine o'clock. Ray had thrown the log book and the night's empty tapes at them and ran for the door leaving a flabbergasted Huey in his wake.  
The mountie was doing his toy soldier impression outside the consulate. _Inspector Thatcher's a complete..._  
Doing his best to appear chipper and alert (when all he wanted was a nice mug of coffee and his Ma's cooked breakfast) Ray bounced up to the mountie's side. He had had all night to think about what he would say to Benny when he saw him and now they were face to face all his carefully formed questions completely disappeared.  
"Hi, Benny, see you had another bad night."  
Even his eyes looked bloodshot.  
"Look, I know you're protecting the 'mother land'...can't you talk to me for a minute?"  
The mountie's expression changed infinitesimally \- his bottom lip appeared to jut out.  
_Pet lip?_ Ray thought incredulously.  
"I've been up all night on stakeout, " Ray began. "You too - by the looks of it. If you don't tell me what's wrong I can't help you."  
There was a resigned look in Fraser's eyes.  


"Bennny..." Ray wheedled.  
It was the wrong approach, somehow without moving, the mountie's posture stiffened. Ray sighed loudly and resorted to threats.  
"Hey, I've finished for the day; I can wait here until the sun sets."  
A defeated snort escaped from the mountie. "There's nothing you can do, Ray."  
Ray blinked, surprised by his success.  
"Maybe," he gestured dramatically. "If you don't tell me what's up I definitely can't do anything."  
There was definitely a touch of a pet lip to the mountie's expression - Ray looked at it fascinated.  
"I think I'm being haunted, Ray. Are you happy now?"  
"Haunted? By a ghost?"  
Ray couldn't contain the smile that crossed his face. Exasperated, the mountie glared at him and then stared off into the middle distance dismissing him.  
"Aw, come on, Benny, talk to me."  
_No,_ Benny said silently.  
"Detective Vecchio!"  
"Damn," he hissed under his breath.  
Schooling a smile, he glanced up at one of the consulate windows. Inspector Thatcher leaned out into the street. She wore her patented 'I'm not in a good mood' expression.  
_She'd drive me to drink_.  
"Good morning, Inspector."  
"No, it is not," she growled. "You are harassing my Constable. And you are trespassing on Canadian soil. If you do not stop harassing _my_ constable I will have him throw you off said Canadian soil."  
"Geez, I'm just trying to helpful." Ray whined.  
The zone of freezing cold next to him thawed at his words.  
"Ray, please, I don't want to do sentry duty until I retire." Fraser whispered.  
"Okay, okay," Ray said quietly, "but you an' I are gonna talk. I'm on stakeout tonight I can't pick you up afta work. I'll see you in the morning?"  
Fraser nodded slightly.  


*  


Cool hands caressed him. Blood red lips sucked at the pulse in his neck. Fraser moaned deep in his throat, writhing beneath the assault on his senses. The hands reached his nipples playing with the scant hairs which surrounded the tender skin.  
"No." Fraser protested as his body called out.  
Lips caught his, preventing any further words. Chilled skin pressed against the jutting bones of his pelvis rocking him in a cradle of flesh. He moved involuntarily towards the darkness.  
A baying howl echoed through him leaving him impotent and unfurled.  
Fraser's eyes shot open. The early morning sun filled the room, Dief sat in a shaft of sunlight his muzzle raised towards the light. As the howl trailed away he lowered his muzzle and fixed knowing eyes on the mountie.  
"Ohdearohdearohdear." Fraser staggered out of the bed and into the small bathroom. Diefenbaker dogged his heels. The water from the tap was luke warm as it spilled over his head. Fraser turned the tap on full and kept his head under the stream until the water turned cold and his ears went numb. Eventually, he raised his head. He almost couldn't look at his reflection; at the pale, red eyed stranger.  
He looked like hell.  
The wounds on his back burned. Fraser twisted and peered down at the claw marks, they were bleeding again. He hoped they weren't becoming infected.  
_I should have cleaned them straight away - instead of huddling in my bed like a baby until the morning._  
Dief muttered another apology.  
Fraser smiled a tired, strained smile as he reached for the cotton wool and disinfectant.  


*  


Fraser stood at attention outwardly calm and serene. His mind churned beneath the facade. The feeling of dread now filled his waking moments. He had tried meditation, camomile tea, eating enormous amounts of food too make him sleepy and lethargic, and even in desperation drinking coffee (which for some inexplicable reason relaxed Ray when the detective was wound up). In his mind he paced. Five nights of interrupted sleep. Five nights of night-terrors. There were few things which he needed in his ascetic life but uninterrupted nights of sleep were high on his list. He had caught himself early in the morning about to berate Turnball, as the constable had once again wiped every computer file from his computer. If he had not backed up every file on the report he had been slaving on for the last few days, Fraser knew he would have yelled at the trembling constable. Turnball had read his expression and ran from the small office. The constable had been especially irritating for the rest of the morning creeping from office to office in a vain attempt to keep out his way. The overly contrite officer had almost knocked himself out trying to hide in a cupboard when Fraser had passed. When Inspector Thatcher had finally came out of her office to find out what was happening she had once again arbitrarily assigned superfluous tasks to all her staff. Fraser was relieved when he drew guard duty yet again. Now he could range through his mind looking for a solution.  
_I picked up Dief's disquiet and then exaggerated it beyond all proportions_ , he decided.  
Then he remembered how his body had responded - the visceral urge had caught him like an unprepared teenager. In a moment of exhausted weakness the haunt had almost taken him. And he would have given his consent without the wolf's desperate howl.  


_Ray said that he would come 'round. The stakeout must have gone on longer than he thought. Please, Ray. Please, Ray - what? Why on Earth did I say that? I've never needed to talk to anyone before._  
Fraser waited expectantly for his father to appear. The dead mountie did not appear on cue.  
_Actually, that's unusual. Normally he'd be here as soon as I started doubting myself. Remonstrating me..._  
A gaggle of trade delegates exited the consulate discussing dinner plans and party plans. Inspector Thatcher trailed behind them like a reluctant child. She stopped, her dark eyes inscrutable, and stared at the mountie.  
"Make sure you get a decent night's sleep tonight. No running around with that _detective_ ," she made it an pithy epithet. "That is an order."  
Fraser knew that he would have to disobey that order - there would be no sleep tonight. The haunt only came at night - hiding in the shadows until his defences dropped - shadows only came in darkness.  
Now the sun was on the horizon and another night lay ahead.  


*  


_Coffee?_ Ray twitched his nose. _Yup, definitely coffee._  
He cracked open a sleepy eyelid and peered up at his mother standing over him. It took a moment for him to summon up the energy to respond to his mother's too cheery good morning. The cup of coffee was wafted under his appreciative nose.  
"Domenica," she said as if that explained everything.  
Unfortunately, it did. Sunday coupled with the fact that he had got to bed at a reasonable time last night meant church - irrespective of how tired he was when he fell into bed. There were certain advantages to living at home: food, laundry and (sometimes) family but there was most definitely disadvantages.  
"Put it on the table, mama, I need to wake up first."  
"Si," she dropped a maternal kiss on his forehead and then made a quick turn around the room snagging laundry.  
"Che ore sono?" Ray asked as his eyes finally focused unbelievingly on his alarm clock.  
"Le sette e venticinque." Ma supplied over her shoulder as she left the room.  
_The clock wasn't wrong,_ Ray realised in horror. It wasn't even half seven in the morning and his Ma was dragging him out of bed. _There better be a damn good breakfast in this for me._ Ray squirmed into a seated position and concentrated on drinking the coffee without spilling it. _Well, I prefer Ma waking me up instead of the kids deciding it would be *fun* to get Uncle Ray out of bed._ Ray relaxed into his bolster. _It would be nice to stay in bed all day or maybe for a week,_ he cherished the idea.  
Maria passed his open bedroom door with his youngest nephew, Daniello, draped over her shoulder. The toddler looked like he had been treated to an early morning bath. There was a wide conspiratorial grin on his sister's face.  
"Ma wants us _all_ at church today."  
"Why?" Ray asked around his coffee mug as he drained the dregs.  
"She's on one of her crusades - doesn't think some of us are going enough."  
Ray sighed a deeply abused sigh and sunk further into the bed.  
"The bathroom's free and Frannie's not up yet."  
That meant hot water and an opportunity to wind up his baby sister. Ray threw back the covers; he just felt like a really hot shower. Maria stepped out of her brother's way as Ray arrowed to the bathroom, en route he chucked the little boy under the chin and pecked his sister's cheek.  
"You're very bad, you know, Maria."  
"Well, I've got to stay in practice," she grinned.  


*  


Fraser lifted his head from the kitchen table - he'd made it through the night without falling asleep. With tired fingers he pinched out the flame of the candle he'd focused on throughout the night. He remembered the night's events:  


_He slunk into the apartment complex after work avoiding his neighbours with horribly heightened senses. Lack of food and lack of sleep had brought him to an edge where his senses were prickling. Noises, smells and tastes bombarded him until they were painfully intense. Dief ranged ahead checking, eternally checking, the way for him. Mrs Garcia nearly caught them but like a ghost Fraser slipped into the apartment and barricaded the door shut. He turned on the bedside light, lit all his kerosene lamps but shied away from the remnants of candles in the old cupboard. Priming himself, Fraser made a slow turn around the room, then from the recesses of his father's chest he pulled out a white pure beeswax candle. It was short and fat and unburned. He held it in his hands for the longest time contemplating whether or not to use the candle._  
_Dief nudged his calf telling the mountie in his own way that they had no choice \- tonight was going to be bad._  
_Using a simple saucer the mountie set the candle before him and began his vigil. When the kerosene lamps ran out of oil the shadows moved. Slowly the light ebbed and the darkest shadow in the farthest corner oozed along the wall. Getting larger and larger until the candle on the kitchen table was the only source of light. Fraser concentrated solely on the wavering flame as the shadows ranged around his body._  


_They couldn't touch him as he long as he remained entranced by the flame. Chilled fingers played a hairsbreadth from the nape of his neck tempting, teasing and terrifying him. When a banshee's voice howled outside, screaming against the distant clamour of the city life, he had nearly lost his resolve. Cowering pathetically, Dief finally slunk from beneath the bed and crawled onto his friend's lap. Clasping the wolf against him, Fraser had had fought off demons._  


Dief dropped his muzzle onto his companion's thigh and whined quietly.  
"Thanks, Dief." Fraser petted the wolf. "Do you want any breakfast?"  
He didn't wait for an answer, irrespective of whether or not the wolf wanted breakfast, today they were going to eat something.  
"Porridge and chopped banana?" they deserved a treat.  
Dief yelped his agreement.  
It was probably the only meal which would appeal to both wolf and mountie at this point. Dief curled up at his feet as he doled oats and milk into a pan.  
Comfort food.  


*  


Ray intercepted Daniello crawling determinedly towards the fire. He hoisted the little boy high in his arms and then let go. The baby dropped, giggling delightedly. Ray caught him at the last possible moment and then hoisted him high again.  
"He's just had his breakfast, Ray," a wise maternal voice pointed out.  
"Caught." Ray said to his nephew.  
Together they sagged backwards on the sofa. Daniello kept on giggling with his favourite uncle. The little boy was decked out in his Sunday best, a tiny sailor suit, and Ray was wearing his favourite coal grey suit with a pale silvery white shirt. They were ready for Mass. Daniello seemed quite content to sit on his Uncle's lap and tweak his long roman nose. Ray decided not to disturb the tyke, especially as the rest of the family were running around like headless chickens trying to get ready for church on time.  
"Ma?" Ray called out to his mother.  
"Desiderano, caro?"  
"Ancora del caffe, per favore?"  
"Get your own coffee." Frannie screeched from somewhere in the large house.  
"I'm looking after Daniello," he shouted back a her as he poked the little boy in the tummy keeping him giggling, "I'm trying to keep him clean and out of the fire."  
"Put the fire guard up!" Frannie's voice rose another notch.  
"It's not there! Paulie must be playing with it again."  
Inhaling, he detected the scent of coffee approaching - Benny might be good at identifying types of gunpowder by taste but Ray could sniff out freshly brewed coffee at a hundred paces. Paulie came through the doorway both hands clamped around a mug of coffee. His concentration was absolute. Ray contained a smile as a small tongue peaked out from his oldest nephew's mouth as he focused on delivering unspilt coffee to his Uncle.  


*  


Ray slumped down into the pew. The wooden slats were hard, flat and cold and his ass was numbing. Daniello on his lap wriggled, soon the little boy would make his thoughts on being subjected to this ordeal known, Ray just hoped that he'd be the one to take him outside.  
Ray smothered a yawn. The reason for Ma's insistence, above and beyond her normal insistence, had been spawned by a new fire and brimstone Father. Apparently, Father Biehn was recuperating from a minor stroke. Ray forced himself to tune into the Father's words. The man was banging his fist against the pulpit as he harangued his flock.  
Ray hated being yelled at.  
"So all those not born in the covenant of God shall be cast out!"  
"What the Hell does that mean?" Frannie whispered.  
Ray shrugged. "Tough," he caught his Ma's glare, "deal if you're born out of marriage?" he suggested quietly.  
"Only those given children as a gift from God should procreate!"  
Frannie bristled - Ray caught her elbow but it wasn't necessary, for once his sister was stunned into silence.  
"Doctors giving Children where God does not want them! The horror of in-vitro fertilisation producing soulless babies..."  
Daniello whimpered as Ray gripped him tightly. The detective could not believe what he was hearing. Even more disturbing was a dull nodding from most of the congregation. Frannie was biting at her lip holding back tears of rage or hurt.  
"They should be thrown back into the River!"  
Ray surged to his feet. "Ma," he said tightly, "I'll be waiting outside."  
Ma Vecchio had a stunned look on her face, she blinked at her son as he stepped around her and into the centre aisle.  
"You!"  
Ray could hear the finger being pointed at his back. He wasn't going to dignify this imbecile with a response.  
"Get thee hence."  
Ray dug in his heels and turned around. The father was clasping the pulpit with white knuckles as he berated his congregation  
"Where are you going?" the man shrieked.  
"Out. Away from your crap." Ray said in a loud penetrating voice. His Ma went white and crossed herself as she bowed in prayer.  
Ray felt rather amused as the Father turned a fetching shade of purple. _With any luck he'll have a stroke too._ Ray thought nastily.  


He turned his back again on the frothing Padre.  
"Demons surround you and yours!" the Father hurled at his back as Ray walked out the Mass.  


*  


Ray settled Daniello into the car seat in the Riv and turned on the stereo. Happy music filled the car. The toddler's arms waved in time.  
"Can you believe that guy?"  
Daniello gurgled.  
"And for that I got out of bed?"  
A tap on the passenger window interrupted the conversation. Frannie stood outside - her eyes bright with unshed tears.  
Ray leaned over and let his sister into his sanctum.  
"Creep," she said by way of understatement and she slumped into the bucket seat.  
"What did he say when you left?"  
"He said Demons were going to take away the corrupting influence." Frannie wiped at her eyes smudging her makeup. "I guess that means you."  
"What did Ma do?" Ray asked worried.  
"At this precise moment in time," Frannie said deliberately mimicking her favourite mountie, "she's in conference with the Women's Circle; I think they're going to see the Archbishop."  
Ray laughed out loud. Father Creep had attacked Ma Vecchio's children he hadn't a chance.  
"Will you keep an eye on Dani? I'll go in a talk with Ma." Ray made to get out of the car. It was Frannie's turn to catch his elbow and stop him doing anything stupid.  
"Ma's in full flow. I'd prefer to walk into a burning building than go in there. Do you really want to get involved with the Woman's Circle?"  
"Widow's Circle more like."  
"Drive us home, Ray. I can get started on Sunday dinner." Frannie grimaced as she looked at her reflection in the wing mirror. "Maria brought the Station wagon, we don't need to hang around out here where someone can see me."  
"I'll drop you off, I want to check on Benny."  
"Yes," Frannie perked up, "you can invite him for dinner."  


*  
Fraser caught himself wandering aimlessly around his apartment.  
"What are we going to do, Dief? I will fall asleep at some point and I won't be able to wake up."  
He ran his fingers through dishevelled hair.  
"Why am I doing this to myself? It's all in my mind," he berated the ceiling, "there's no concrete reason to be afraid. There, I admitted it: I'm afraid."  
Dief spun in a tight circle.  
"Why?" he picked up a photograph from the dresser displacing a morsel of dust. "That's it! If we clean the place it may help!"  
Like a whirling dervish, Fraser moved to the cupboard which contained cleaning utensils and detergents. As children came into his apartment they were placed out of reach. Fraser came to a stunned halt as he realised that he had accidentally opened the candle cupboard. Victoria's candles. They were stacked as neatly as ever. Drawing his finger nail across the wax Fraser shaved off a fragment. His nail snagged on something, his heart hammering in his chest Fraser peered into the depths of the cupboard. A single long dark hair entwined the candles. The hair hadn't been there when he had painstakingly cleaned the apartment with Ray's help after being released from hospital.  
_Oh God._  
"Benny?" A fist drummed against the door. "Are you in there?"  
Fraser stood frozen as Ray banged the door again.  
"Benny! Open the door!"  
On autopilot, Fraser followed his friend's instructions and pulled free the wooden chair jammed up against the door handle. The door slammed open at the detective's kick.  
Ray bounced across the threshold and took in his friend, holding a chair in one hand and his bedraggled appearance, in one single glance.  
"You locked the door?" he asked unbelievingly.  
Fraser nodded mutely.  
"Why?" he slipped into the apartment  
Still stunned, Fraser looked down at the long hair pinched between his finger and thumb. The scent of eucalyptus permeated the room.  
"I have to go, Ray," he held the single strand before his friend's eyes.  
The detective's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the object - eventually he plucked it from Fraser's grasp.  
Fraser dismissed him; Victoria was back. That explained the eucalyptus and new leather which Dief had complained about. Oils and new clothes, especially footwear were tried and tested ways to mask scent.  
_A raw cadet would have seen through that ploy,_ he berated himself. _She's come to take me away._  
Fraser turned in a confused, aimless circle.  
_She's come to take me away._  
He could hide in the Park. He didn't need much; just his bedroll and blanket. She would never find him amongst the trees and bushes. It would never occur to her to search the park for him. He could hide - safe and sound.  
_I should have went to the Park when this all started, instead of remaining in this room._  
Fraser yanked the blanket from his bed. As he leaned over his stomach churned, rebelling against the porridge and milk he had forced down. The next thing he knew he had his head over the sink as he retched up soft oats.  
A high pitched Italian voice was remonstrating him from some unimaginable distance. Then a comforting hand was rubbing his back. Once he had finished and his stomach was empty another hand pushed a glass of water into his face. Fraser grabbed it like a victim lost in a desert. Cool, refreshing water drained down his throat. He set the glass on the draining board with a hard thump. Fractures formed, running up the sides of the glass. A face shattered within, alarmed, he staggered away. Hands tried to hold him. He had to get out of the apartment before Victoria returned and claimed his soul.  


_How did she get into the room? We locked the door._  
A man caught his shoulders. Fraser stared through the unfamiliar figure to the open door. He could escape.  
If I don't see her - speak to her - she can't get to me and then I don't have to think about this.  
He made a dash for the door but the strange man intercepted him forcing him against the wall with embarrassing ease. The wolf, his friend and comrade, allowed the man to hold him.  
"Please," Fraser begged, "I've got to go."  
The man's mouth moved but there was little sound to be heard over the roaring in his mind. One word was mouthed again and again: 'why?'.  
"Victoria," he said.  
The sudden pain in his jaw and then the blinding impact of the back of his head bouncing off the wall was quite simply a relief. Fraser felt his knees give way and his body sink to the floor. As he ebbed away, he realised, with surprising clarity of thought:  
_Ray hit me._  


*  


Shocked to the core, Ray jumped back, his sudden anger flooding away as Fraser folded in on himself into a boneless heap.  
_I hit him! I didn't mean to hit him that hard._  
Ray crouched closely, almost afraid to touch his friend.  
"Fraser?" he tried tentatively.  
He could hear the mountie's soft uneven breathing.  
"Benny, wake up. I didn't mean to hit you. Well, I did but I didn't mean too. Benny, please wake up."  
Ray rocked back on his heels running his hands nervously over his short hair. The sound of his friend's head ricocheting off the wall echoed in his ears.  
He still held the strand of dark curly hair in his hand, the same hand with which he had hit Benny. Gagging in disgust, he frantically brushed it from his fingers. Dief growled and edged between them. The wolf pushed his muzzle against the mountie's throat. Feral eyes turned and weighed the detective.  
"I though he was going to her." Ray defended himself. "He said the bitch's name and I just lashed out."  
His fingers only a thumbnail from the wolf's canines he reached out and touched the knot forming on his friend's jaw.  
"I said that I would never hurt you again," he said dejectedly.  
Oblivious to the low growl emanating from the wolf he shuffled closer and absently pushed the wolf from Fraser's body. Carefully, he manoeuvred his hands under the mountie and pulled him into his arms. He was too light; weight had been shed like melting water over the last few days.  
"Some friend. I didn't check on you." Ray shook his head.  
With appalling ease he stood and carried the mountie to the bed. Fraser eased into the pillow with a soft, snuffling sigh.  
"Benny?" Ray knelt at the head of the bed and peered intently into his friend's face.  
Dazed blue eyes opened.  
"Ray?"  
"How many fingers?" he couldn't help the smile in his voice.  
Fraser waited the longest moment. "Two," he finally decided.  
"Two, it is."  
A furrow formed between Fraser's eyes as he evidently tried to formulate a question. He gave up and his eyes drooped.  
"Sleepy, Ray. Haven't slept - she comes when I sleep."  
"You can't go to sleep; you hit your head." Ray protested.  
"No choice - can't stay awake." Fraser's eyes drifted shut. "She's coming to get me."  
"Shit!" Ray gritted out as Fraser slipped deeply into sleep. "Shit, shit, shit." The litany did not make him feel better.  
The white wolf leaped onto the bottom of the bed and settled across the mountie's feet. Ray staggered over to the kitchen area. If he was his Dad he would have been hitting the bottle by now. He was sorely tempted to go out and find a liquor store. He knew that Benny would have no alcohol. Ray sagged down on his haunches against the wall cradling his head in his hands. Now that he had time to think about it he began to get angry again.  
_She calls and he runs,_ thoughts ran violently in his mind. _What she did to me. To us. Will you let it happen again?_  
"Running after her!" he almost yelled.  
Dief lifted his head, ears pricked forwards, and shifted uncomfortably. Ray looked away from the all too knowing eyes.  
"Okay, okay, okay. He couldn't even catch a snowflake at the moment."  
Dief slunk off the bed and padded to the detective's side. Sitting eye to eye they regarded each other.  
"I don't know what you're trying to tell me. I don't read your mind like Benny."  
Ray saw an expression of what looked like frustration flicker over the wolf's face. Deliberately, Diefenbaker raised himself onto the window sill and clicked his black claws against the closed window.  
Realisation struck - all the windows were closed and the door was barred. Benny was as wrung out as a dishrag. This was not the demeanour of a man in love; here was a tortured soul in hiding.  
The detective glanced at the sleeping figure lying on rumpled blankets.  
_What are we going to do?_  


*  


Searching the floor on his hands and knees Ray eventually found the hair. He had covered the room thoroughly yet the only evidence of Victoria's return was a single hair. It was possible, he admitted to himself, that it was left from her previous visit. When Fraser had been eventually released from hospital he had spent the first couple of days being pampered, with Ray, at the Vecchio house before the pair of them had re-entered West Racine. Her candles had been strewn on the floor. The burnt out stumps had struck the mountie dumb almost shocking him into a depressed relapse. Swearing violently, Ray had started to lob the candles out of the window until with a gentle hand Benny had stopped him. It had struck Ray as strange when without speaking they had carefully stacked them in an open cupboard. Closing the door on the candles had closed the door on the Victoria fiasco, they had never spoken of it again. Benny as near as he could guess had never opened the cupboard since.  


Ray placed the hair in an evidence bag.  
_It could have been left over from last time._  
He didn't believe it - the woman was a consummate criminal. Forensics had been over the apartment after she had shot Diefenbaker and then once more to try and prove Fraser had had a lady friend in his apartment. Not one single fingerprint had been found.  
Victoria was back. He didn't want to believe it but he had convinced himself that she was.  
_And there is no way in Hell she's going to get you this time, Benny._  
Ray moved out onto the fire escape to better use his cell phone. The wolf joined him for a moment and then ran down the metal steps obviously in dire need of a walk.  
The conversation with Lieutenant Welsh was short, sharp and to the point. After he had initiated the APB, Ray settled himself on the iron steps and began to painstakingly disassemble his gun. Meticulously, he began to clean the barrel. He was not going to miss this time.  


*  


A velvet voice beckoned, Fraser arched cat-like on the bed, reaching out to the words. A finger was drawn over his lips, pausing for a heartbeat, stilling him. Enthralled, Fraser relaxed back - slipping deeper and deeper into sleep. A weight settled upon his chest and feather fine hair fell about his face.  
"Bitch!"  
The report of gun fire shocked him back.  
"No!"  
Profanities were screamed loudly and repeatedly. Fraser opened his eyes \- Ray stood over him his gun held in his hand. The smell of cordite was strong. His head throbbing a staccato rhythm with the echoing shot, Fraser forced himself up on his elbows.  
"What are you doing?"  
There was a prominent bullet hole a fraction above the headboard of the bed.  
"She was here!" Ray shrieked. "I was on the fire escape, and well, I heard you moan and I looked in and she was over you. Sitting on you! But she's not there now!"  
The detective scanned the room darting a quick glance under the bed. It would have been comical if he hadn't been so serious.  
"Ah." Fraser managed.  
"What do you mean 'Ah'?" The detective grabbed the mountie's dishevelled shirt and hauled him nose to nose.  
Fraser saw his own fear now reflected in emerald eyes.  
"Say something, damn you!" Ray snarled.  
Fraser licked dry lips. "I don't know what is happening..."  
"Make one of your guesses! She was here and then she disappeared. I can't find her anywhere!"  
"I thought I was being haunted. I see things that other people don't." Fraser began disjointedly. "It never bothered me before but this is different..."  
"And..."  
Fraser looked meekly at his best friend. "It's bad."  
Ray released the mountie; Fraser fell back onto the bed. Ray sagged beside him.  
"You're being haunted by a ghost? Is Victoria the Ghost?"  
Fraser shrugged eloquently.  
"My God, even if she's dead we're not free of her." Ray growled deep in his throat, a frustrated sound. "This is one of her fuckin' schemes \- there was a mirror or sommat which made me think I saw her."  
Fraser threw his arm over his eyes as Ray continued to rant. Would he ever escape the woman? Could he ever escape the woman? Did he want to escape Victoria? She had him caught up until he could not think clearly. It suddenly occurred to him that Ray had stopped talking. He could feel that the detective was still sitting on the edge of the bed.  
"Are you all right, Benny?" Ray asked in a quiet voice.  
"No, Ray; I don't know what to do."  
"We've gotta do something."  
"Any suggestions?"  
Fraser listened to the cadence of his throbbing head hoping that some answer would come to him.  
"Father Biehn is ill. The new Father thinks I deserve to rot in Hell." Ray said quietly.  
"Exorcism. I never thought of that." Fraser said, reading Ray's mind.  
"We shoulda done it the first time she came 'round." Ray said venomously.  
Fraser rolled himself off the bed away from Ray and his anger. Tears were threatening to fill his eyes.  
_I need_..., he didn't know what he needed.  
"Why in the Hell did you fall for her?" Ray attacked. "She was evil."  
Fraser hunched his shoulders hiding from his friend's words.  
Ray was on his feet his whole body taut with anger as he spat out at his friend. In a short strutting step he was face to face with Fraser.  
"I don't get it! You so fuckin' intelligent. You think that's the way love works?"  
Fraser backed away from the naked hate in Ray's expression. There was nowhere in the room to hide - Ray was demanding answers where there were none.  
"I mean, how do you think that was love? That warped bitch wasn't capable of love. Is that what you think love is - pain and hurting? Who taught you that?"  
Fraser sobbed.  
Ray went as white as a sheet.  
Blindly, Fraser turned from the wide hurting eyes to stare out of his bedside window. Footsteps moved softly behind him, paused, and then came a step closer. Ray's cologne invaded his senses as he tried to control his breathing to stop the sobs which threatened to overtake him.  
"Benny?" Ray said hesitantly.  
Fraser dropped his head to his chest as the tears leaked down his cheeks. He was crying silently. No more heartbreaking sobs.  


"Benny." Ray tried again.  
He couldn't speak to him. _Why doesn't he leave me alone?_ Fraser wept.  
"Perhaps you'd better leave, Ray." Fraser said his voice tight in an ultimately futile attempt for control.  
Hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him around.  
"Don't do this. To me; to you." Ray hissed.  
Strong hands shook him in a firm parental reprimand. Fraser looked down to his cold bare feet - any distraction - to keep away from all to perceptive eyes.  
"Benny, speak to me," he pleaded.  
_I'm just tired. I'm over reacting because I'm tired._  
"I'm sorry, Benny."  
"No," finally Fraser raised his head, "don't apologise - it was never your fault."  
"What are we talking about? My crack two seconds ago or shooting you in the back?"  
"Neither." Fraser sighed. "Both."  
"Just tell me, Benny." Ray said plaintively. "Why is she doing this to you and why are you letting her?"  
Fraser dashed at the tears on his cheek trying vainly to avoid the question. The only answer he could verbalise was a little shrug.  
"You could have anyone, even the Dragon Lady." Ray couldn't help himself giving a dramatic gag. "Yet you don't let anyone near you except a manipulative bitch who can twist you around her little finger. What does that say about our friendship?"  
The change in conversation took the mountie by surprise. One moment they were talking about Victoria Medcalf and the next moment their friendship. It made no logical sense.  
"I don't understand what you're trying to say." Fraser whispered.  
"I know and that what's so sad about it. You believed, believe, for some unknown reason that you deserve everything Victoria did to you."  
"I arrested..."  
"No, no, no." Ray released the mountie's shoulder and shook a reprimanding finger before his eyes. "She committed a crime, God damn you! Do you feel guilty for putting Geiger or Carver in the joint? No, you don't. You only let people near you who you think are going to hurt you... 'cos for some freaky reason you think you deserve to be hurt. Do you think I'm gonna hurt you?" Ray finished.  
"Who have you been talking to?" the question bubbled up from nowhere - everywhere.  
"My Ma." Ray said succinctly. "She figures you never had a hug in your entire life."  
"You talked to your mother about me?" Fraser felt his mind go numb under the onslaught  
"I talk to my Ma about everything." Ray paused then hedged, "almost everything."  
Fraser swayed dizzily. He felt Ray's hands come up to support him - then the same hands guiding him. Fraser allowed Ray to push him back down onto the bed - it was easier than talking to the detective.  
"You've gone white," Ray noted. "well, whiter."  
Sounds were roaring in his mind. He just wanted to shut them out and concentrate on nothingness. Ray and his mother's too penetrating insight. Victoria - never out of his thoughts - torturing him day and night. Tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes no matter how hard he tried to stop them.  
"Christ, Benny."  
Suddenly, Ray enfolded him in a hug. Fraser gave in. Ray was right he had never had a hug. At least not since his mother had died. Grandmother had never been particularly demonstrative and Grandfather had been something of an enigma. Maybe that was why he had turned to Victoria, in the ice and nothingness, in desperation, to find out what he was missing before they died. That did not explain the connection (he had no other word) he felt with the dark woman that haunted his dreams. Ray was still rocking him like a child. It felt profoundly strange to be on the receiving end of care and attention. The throbbing in his head was easing.  
*He's mine*  
The voice etched through his mind like harsh corrosive acid. Fraser clutched at Ray. Searching for reality as his mind burned with the claiming of his soul.  
"Hey, Benny, it's okay." Ray soothed, obviously the detective had not heard the voice. "Ma guessed that your Grandma and pop weren't too demonstrative and she said that if you don't get enough hugs when you're little you don't think that you deserve 'em."  
Fraser felt the beginnings of hysterical laughter bubbling - Victoria was coming to take him and Ray thought he was scared of being hugged. The laughter metamorphosed into a strangled sob as he realised in retrospect that breaking down like this was as frightening as Victoria's imminent arrival.  
"...that you think you deserve to be hit."  
Fraser jerked away from Ray's last words.  
He was going to run away - he was going to cry again - he was going to curl up in the tightest ball possible - he was going to hide deep with himself and never emerge - he was going to ask if Ray would hug him again.  
"Come on, Benny. My pop 'helped' me into a door more than once - don't you think I can recognise the signs? I am a detective." Ray said flatly .  
"I was not abused." Fraser defended his grandparents.  
"I'm sure that they didn't call it abuse." Ray muttered wisely. "that doesn't make a good ol' beatin' when you've dun wrong - right."  


The analysis was coming too fast - he was trying to deal with the haunt and Ray was dredging up memories best hidden. Ray seemed to have dismissed the fact that he had seen Victoria in the apartment - what the mind didn't understand it had shunted aside. He felt like a small child waiting for the strap to fall. Then he realised the implications of his analogy.  
"Right, I'm gonna find Victoria." Ray snarled.  
Apparently, Ray had not forgotten that he had seen Victoria. A change seemed to come over Ray as he finally released his friend. Feeling strangely bereft, Fraser sagged back against the headboard. The emotions he had released had left him torn and exhausted. An imperious and determined Ray stood over him with a unfamiliar judging expression on his careworn face.  
"Can I trust you?" the words were clipped and hurtful.  
Fraser nodded mutely - he would never let Ray down again.  
_I thought he knew that._ Merely the thought that Ray did not trust him was physically painful.  
"I want you to go to Mr Mustafi's and stay there..."  
"I can't do that, Ray."  
"I thought you said that I could trust you?" Ray countered.  
The detective was usually given to chopping and changing the conversation. _This is taking it to new lengths,_ Fraser thought.  
"Ray..." Fraser forced himself to sit upright.  
"No!" Ray interrupted. "When was the last time you ate? The last time you slept? You couldn't fight your way outta paper bag. You will stay at Mr Mustafi's or I'll take you home to Ma."  
"I'm not a child, Ray." Fraser protested.  
Ray snorted. "You'll fall on your face as soon as you stand up."  
"I don't think so."  
"I'm going out and I'm gonna find Victoria, whether she's alive or dead, and deal with her. You can't back me up."  
The stubborn determination in his expression nearly made the detective unrecognisable. _If Ray had a mirror who would he see?_ Fraser wondered distantly. His father with whom he had that love/hate relationship or an old Mafioso grandfather? A relative who Fraser somehow knew was lurking in the Vecchio family tree. But Fraser too had honed his capacity for stubbornness to a fine edge - there was no way in Hell that he was going to allow his only friend to hunt down whoever or whatever was haunting him alone.  
"We don't have to go looking for," Fraser searched for the word - eventually he shrugged, "it will come here."  
"That's why I want you out of the room!" Ray voice hit a strident falsetto.  
Drawing on reserves he didn't know that he had left, Fraser managed to stand without shaking.  
"If it is after me," somehow it was easier to refer to a possible Victoria impersonally, "it will come to me wherever I am."  
The logic was faultless.  
"Damn, damn, damn." Ray ground his teeth together. "Why did Father Biehn have to get sick?"  
"Another priest?" Fraser hazarded.  
"Nah, there is only Father Creep and he's probably give it a hand. We kinda had an altercation today." Ray rubbed at the back of his neck - an embarrassed gesture. "He said that a demon would take me away."  
Ray's eyes widened in horror, disturbed he paced to the window and back.  
"Demon?" Fraser echoed, his voice flat. Ghosts and parental visitations were bad enough without a potential demon. Or demoness.  
"What are we going to do?" Ray squeaked.  
"I don't believe in demons."  
"The question is: do they believe in you?" Ray snapped  
"That's an interesting slant to a difficult question. There is a body of thought that says that the supernatural cannot effect you if you don't believe in it - in essence your ignorance is a shield. To think that if a demon believes in you makes you vulnerable to its evil defeats that protection. Then again I suppose if you believe that a demon could believe in you it follows that you have to believe in the demon"  
"Fraser, shut the fuck up!"  
Fraser clamped his mouth shut - he had never seen such naked fear on a man's face. The appropriately named Father Creep had place a seed of fear in the detective's soul. Now Ray believed that Victoria, be she alive or dead, would take him.  
_That will not happen - she will take me first and last._ The solution was obvious now. Every night he had fought off the demon until he was a burnt out husk. Now Ray was placing himself in danger - and if the Father Creep had sunk his claws in deep enough Ray would believe his immortal soul to be in peril. And belief was a potent force. Resolved, Fraser raised his chin, for the first time in days he felt at peace.  
"Ray, can you go to the church and obtain some sacramental wine or preferably some holy water from a font?" Fraser rubbed his chin in a patently artificial gesture. "It would be better if you asked a Deacon. Oh, and a candle or two would be a good idea."  
"You've thought of something?"  
Fraser's mask like expression was back in place.  
"Um - yes. It's not dark yet we have plenty of time. You better hurry." Fraser chivvied his friend to the door. Adrenaline was fuelling his actions, when it wore off he would be shocky and tired. Ray was left like a gaping fish on the other side of the door as it closed firmly in his face. Fraser waited until hesitant footsteps trailed down the corridor. Only then did he replace the chair under the door knob.  


Irrespective of the mode of Victoria's return - be she demon succubus or malevolent trickster she was not going to harm Ray. Composing himself, Fraser settled cross legged on the floor. It took hardly any effort to obtain a meditative trance - the blow to his head, the lack of food and little sleep all conspired to make him feel as if he was watching the world through a narrowing window.  
Warm, sweet breath fanned though his body. Fraser opened his eyes. She stood over him fey and enchanting.  
"Ah, my Ben," she whispered softly.  
Her hands cupped his face as she bent forwards to gently kiss his lips. Fraser bowed his head so the lightest of kisses brushed his forehead.  
"Victoria."  
"I've waited so long."  
He could feel her nuzzling against his short hair - inhaling his scent \- revelling. Arms enfolded his unresisting body.  
"Forever."  


*  


Ray was half down the flight of stairs when he realised that there were literally hundreds of candles in Fraser's apartment. He came to a dead stop.  
_Damn you!_  
He spun on his heel and began to run back up the stairs.  


*  


Fraser held himself still as Victoria caressed him within her arms. No word of encouragement passed his lips. With detachment he noted that he in fact felt numb. Victoria was his temptation - drawn to her sublime beauty despite the danger- black widow and mate. He wasn't entirely sure the metaphor was appropriate. Fraser raised his head and stared into her eyes hoping for some answers. Bottomless brown eyes studied him intently, filled with an unfathomable emotion. Her lips parted to kiss. Ray said that she was evil. And after the debacle of Jolly and the events preceding the shooting Fraser had began to wonder if he had ever known the woman who now embraced him. The darkness inside her had consumed her. The question was: was the woman he had met in the ice retrievable or had she only existed in his dreams.  
"What?" she whispered.  
Fraser shrugged. He had called Victoria to him for quite simply an ending. As long as nobody, especially Ray, was not hurt by Victoria he didn't particularly care what happened to him.  
A small angry furrow formed on her brow.  
"What now?" Fraser responded.  
"Stand up!" she ordered.  
Laboriously, Fraser clambered to his feet. She was only slightly shorter than him but whatever she had being doing over the last year eating had not figured prominently. Always thin she had weathered down to a wraith. Her luminous beauty was still present but it had been honed to a knife edge.  
"You're mine. You know that don't you?"  
The question in her voice was surprising. Always he had been drawn to her like a moth to the flame. She hadn't needed to question his commitment before. Fraser wasn't going to answer her question. The simplest solution to all his problems was, he realised, to arrest her. Yet, deep down he knew that he was afraid of the consequences of any action involving Victoria. If Victoria was arrested, charged and imprisoned she would eventually be freed to commit her own personal brand of mayhem. Better to wait and see and then react to her decisions.  
"It's time to leave," she tugged at his elbow.  
All his active inaction had been prompted by a possible threat to Ray. His friend who had put his life and his home on the line when Victoria had first returned. Normally he was a defined and definite person - duty told him to arrest Victoria and be done with it - yet he vacillated. He felt as confused as a child.  
_She has not threatened Ray,_ Fraser realised.  
"Are you coming with me?"  
Another question, almost as if she needed his permission.  
_She has not threatened Ray, yet._ Fraser corrected.  
There was another insistent tug at his elbow. Fraser snorted perversely amused by his indecision.  
He took a plodding step forwards.  
"Yes." She hissed sibilantly, an unholy gleam in her eyes.  
_Perhaps it would be easier if I died?_ Fraser considered. Then there would be no more confusion, no indecision, no fear, no threats to the people he cared about. If he went to wherever she was taking him, be it heaven or hell, would it be over or only postponed? It was all too confusing - Fraser felt his knees give way dumping him unceremoniously on the cold floor. Victoria yanked on his arm trying vainly to haul him to his feet. Fraser controlled a laugh.  
_If she hadn't been torturing me over the last week I'd probably have the energy to go with her. Or maybe the inclination._  
Strangely, it seemed to be going very dark - as if a veil was being draped over his eyes. His head ached. He didn't even have the energy to kill himself. She was now over him shaking his shoulders - screaming incoherently in his face.  


*  


The door gave way with an almighty crack as Ray Vecchio, Chicago detective, rammed it off the hinges. The chair braced against the doorknob shattered as the fire extinguisher smashed through the door. Breathing heavily, he stopped at the threshold, wielding the fire extinguisher. Victoria stood over the mountie, her hands bunched in his shirt, shaking his unresisting body.  


"Back off, _putta._ " Ray growled hefting the extinguisher in his hand. It would be simplicity itself to smash it down on her brown curly head.  
Victoria released Fraser's shirt and he slumped onto the floor.  
"Fraser?" Ray tried. "Benny?"  
"Hello, Ray." Victoria had the audacity to smile at the detective.  
"I told you to back off!"  
She raised her hands and stepped away from the mountie puddled at her feet.  
The fire extinguisher was getting heavy. Ray simply dropped the extinguisher, it made a dull echoing thump on the floor. His eyes fixed unerringly on Victoria's, Ray pulled out his freshly prepared gun.  
"What have you done to him?" Ray demanded. "You injected him with sommat to make him act so screwy?"  
"No." Victoria's voice was patience and tolerance itself. "He just fainted dead away."  
"Yeah, I bet."  
Herding her with the gun, Ray edged forwards and manoeuvred himself between the bitch and his best friend. They danced around each other like a mongoose and a rattler. Still watching her, Ray crouched down and touched his friend's throat he was greeted by a dull steady pulse.  
"Why don't you arrest me?"  
Victoria took an abortive step towards the supine mountie.  
The gun was focused on her heart.  
"The was I figure it," Ray began conversationally, "you broke into the apartment to get your revenge on the mountie who arrested you and the mountie's best friend shot you dead accidentally..."  
"...on purpose." Victoria finished.  
"Well, I won't say that in my report. Hey, you're a criminal and a murderess, I don't think anyone's gonna care," Ray smiled a reptilian grin, "do you?"  
Victoria snorted, delicately. "You don't have it in you."  
"I tried to kill you at the railway station. I told you once: 'you hurt him and I'll kill you'. I meant it."  
There was no hedging or no vacillation in Ray's mind, to him a dead Victoria equalled no Victoria. End of problem. The condescending fascism in her expression slipped in the face of Ray's implacability. They watched each other, no longer mongoose and snake but retribution facing vengeance. Clawing back the remnants of her superiority Victoria stood proudly. Her hair was banshee wild and her fingers involuntarily arched to rend and maim.  
"You would shoot an unarmed woman?"  
Father Creep's words echoed: _demons surround you and yours._  
"You're not a woman." Ray pointed out, "in any sense of the word."  
"And what do you think I am?" she snarled.  
_Could a bullet kill a demon? Only one way to find out._ Ray noted, his thoughts macabre. Old tales and legends offered another way of dealing with the undead.  
" _Strega!_ " Ray spat. "I'll get the medical examiner to chop off your head when he autopsies your remains."  
Ray's finger squeezed on the trigger.  
"Ray," a gentle hand touched his ankle. "don't."  
The detective, keeping his attention firmly riveted on Victoria, fumbled until he griped Fraser's questing hand. Fraser returned his squeeze.  
"Benny, you all right?"  
"Don't kill her, Ray. You'll regret it if you do."  
"Like Hell I will."  
Victoria relaxed her stance - but the seemingly loose posture did not hide her readiness to act. She stood poised the balls of her feet waiting patiently for her opportunity. Ray kept his gun trained on her.  
"Ray," Fraser breathed deeply, "call Lieutenant Welsh and arrest her."  
"No \- I want it so she can't harm us again." Ray hissed. "Can you get up?"  
The was a moments silence. "I seem to be a little dizzy, Ray." Fraser finally admitted.  
"What!" Ray resisted the temptation to check on his friend.  
"I think if I stood up I would probably fall over."  
"Damn." Ray swore.  
Victoria smiled a bitter sweet smile. "Are we going to stand here all day? It sounds like Ben needs to see a doctor."  
Her familiarity incensed the detective. "Don't call him Ben."  
The gun went off startling everyone. Victoria ducked as the bullet whipped past her ear to imbed in the kitchen wall.  
"No, Ray. If you kill her; I'll loose you both." Fraser said simply.  
"Eh?"  
"You'll have committed murder, Ray, you'll change - you'll no longer be the Ray that I know...." Fraser's tone was heartbreaking  
"I want it finished!" Ray demanded. A simple little decapitation would solve all their problems.  
"I lost Victoria..." Fraser spoke quietly, oblivious to the incipient mayhem.  
Victoria tore at her long dark hair.  
Ray was caught in the tableau.  
"...a long time ago to the darkness." Fraser continued. "I know that now. Did I ever know you, Victoria?"  
"My sweet Ben - we can be together," she leaned forwards beseechingly, "we can leave here and start over."  
She managed a step closer without Ray reacting.  
"No, Victoria. Just leave and never come back. Ray won't arrest you and you can continue your life as it was meant to be."  
"We're supposed to be together!"  
" I can't go with you; I won't be the person you need me to be if I go with you. I can only be the Yin to your Yang. The opposite of all that you are."  
"Never!" she snarled her voice harsh and uncompromising. "You're mine! You gave yourself to me in the snow..."  


"There's not a human bone in your body." Ray hurled out.  
"Sssh," Fraser begged - receiving silence, "the essential part of me will die if I go with you, Victoria. I can't live like that. I won't live like that. I might go with you but the person that I am now will no longer exist. If you love me let me go."  
"No! You're mine."  
There was no reasoning with her, Ray realised. Benny would discuss and argue with her until the end of time and ultimately achieve nothing. Once the stalemate was broken she would kill him and take Benny as her prize.  
_It was a simple little accident and the gun went off and she died, Lieutenant._ His report would be short and factual and a lie. Would Fraser ever forgive him if he shot Victoria?  
Ray darted a glance at Fraser.  
Victoria acted. A wall of heat engulfed the room as the gas cooker exploded. Flames rushed up the back wall to flick against the ceiling. Victoria smiled evilly and pirouetted to kick Ray's gun out of his hand. A follow through kick winded the detective. Another kick left Ray curled up on the floor beside the mountie.  
"You didn't honestly think I wasn't going to have a back up plan?" she snorted.  
Then despite the flames and the billowing smoke she paused - leaning over the mountie she placed a light kiss on his lips.  
"Survival of the fittest."  
His eyes tearing from the asbestos laced smoke Ray grabbed his gun and fired frantically at the woman. He could have sworn that his aim was true yet she merely smiled and stepped back into the black enshrouding smoke.  
And disappeared.  
"No!" Ray howled - he didn't know if the tears in his eyes really came from the smoke or the utter frustration of Victoria's escape.  
Yet, Benny had finally rejected the woman that he had loved.  


*  


The light touch to his lips surprised him. Soft as down she breathed a farewell. Fraser stared dizzily up at her wishing for a final clear glance of his once beloved.  
It's over, Fraser breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was over and Ray had not lost his soul to the darkness. Perhaps that had been the true battle. _No,_ Fraser decided, _they had all won: I didn't give in; Ray did not kill in cold blood and Victoria did..._ It was getting increasingly hard to concentrate - he had spent all his energy bartering for Ray's soul. Smoke was rapidly filling the room. Dense and cloying it reached down to engulf them. A taste of burning asbestos was in the air. It would be easy to lie on the cold wooden floor and relax into the smoke.  
"Ray?" Fraser patted at his side until he came in contact with the detective's body.  
Shudders were shaking the man's sparse frame. He had heard the impact of a foot in Ray's side.  
_Are you hurt?_  
"Come on, Benny."  
Ray twisted away and then caught him by the scruff of the neck and began to drag him along the floor under the thickening smoke. Nauseating motion followed as he was hoisted over a sharp bony shoulder. The soft fabric of Ray's jacket brushed his cheek as Ray clambered down the rickety old fire escape. Another person joined them on the fire escape. In the distance the Chicago fire department's sirens were rolling. Large stubby hands were helping Ray place him on the hard sidewalk. Fraser recognised the scent of cooking oil and decided that Mr Mustafi knelt beside them.  
"What happened?" a familiar voice wailed. Fraser recognised the voice as belonging to Carol one of the younger residents in West Racine.  
_Has.... everybody... managed to get out?_ he thought disjointedly.  
"Ssshhh." Carol's mother, Leigh, soothed her daughter.  
Another voice chimed in. Fraser tried vainly to separate out the different people - to check if his neighbours were safe. Luckily many people seemed to be thronged around them.  
"Stand aside!" a new authoritarian voice. Fingers touched his throat feeling for a pulse. Hands rapidly and professionally ran along his body.  
_Paramedic,_ Fraser slowly realised.  
"Sir -I need to assess your level of consciousness. I need you to tell me what day it is."  
"Damn, it's all my fault." Ray moaned.  
_Oh dear. Speak to Ray - tell him.... Oh, I feel very strange._  
"Get me a neck brace," the professional demanded, "back board."  
Competently, he was enfolded in the obligatory heavy blanket and stabilising equipment. Many footsteps moved back as he was lifted onto a gurney. The shift made him sick to his stomach. A hand on his forearm gave him strength.  


epilogue  
  


Ray hovered at the edge of the bed. The doctor had diagnosed a concussion and Benny was sleeping off the effects of what was quite simply exhaustion.  
_A fuckin' simple little knock and you go out like a light. Maybe the stress didn't help - god knows what your blood pressure's been over the last few days. That's a good excuse!_ he thought sarcastically. _I hit you, that's why you've gotta concussion_  
Ray slumped on a horribly uncomfortable plastic chair beside the bed and leaned his chin on the fallout bar.  


"Why is our life like this, Benny?"  
He didn't answer, Ray expected one of Benny's silent replies.  
"I mean, everybody else has a nice quiet life - but you drag us into the most weird situations. Was that a ghost or was it Victoria? That explosion was timed fuckin' perfectly. The fire chief went over the apartment with a fine tooth comb and all they could tell me was that the oven exploded. I knew that, already! I got chatting to his assistant who said that some wax had been found round the gas pipe feeding into the back of the oven which may have been used to cover a leak and if she'd set up a flame of some kind... It's all supposition. I mean how could she have it timed so perfectly?"  
"Is he going to spend all day asleep?"  
Disturbed, Ray glared at the old man who had interrupted them. He hadn't seen him come in. The old doctor pinched a fold of flesh on the back of Benny's hand, the faintest of winces crossed the mountie's face.  
"Good skin tone there, son," the man's grin was wide. "Just bear with him, yank, and everything will be all right - in the end."  
The old man's grin got impossibly wider, with a final, somewhat malicious, pinch he left the room. Ray fingered the lax skin on Benny's hand; he was going to have a bruise. The hand twitched.  
"Benny?"  
Long lashed eyelids opened a fraction and then closed. Benny's breathing changed as he moved from sleeping to waking.  
"Welcome back, Benny."  
A faint smile crossed the mountie's face. "Ray," he whispered, "we did it."  
Ray exulted in the peace in Fraser's voice - he didn't regret his actions - didn't blame him. Watching Benny sleep, the detective had passed from outright terror at the thought of Fraser's first condemning words on waking to the heartfelt prayer that his friend would simply wake up whole and content.  
Ray relaxed into the silence - feeling for the first time the yuckiness of his smoke laced clothes, the roughness of stubble on his cheeks and the bone weary tiredness of his entire body.  
"Yes, we did."  


_fin_  


******  



End file.
